We, (the queen bees and I), have survived the first season of beekeeping. Phew. No one's bees absconded, no one's hive was vandalized, no one killed their bees.
All of us have enjoyed the learning curve-steeper for some (moi), and this connection to nature. We've learned so much and that includes an important skill.
We've seen the neighborhood vegetation flourish: gardens, fruit trees and flowers. A neighbor called a few days ago to come take anything and everything that was left out of her garden. Apparently they'd had enough and the abundance had worn them down. Excited for a few straggling cucumbers, me the gleaner, was astounded to see a patch with possibly a hundred extra cucumbers they couldn't use. It was cucumber picking heaven. Because my tomatoes were still producing, I couldn't even use all her extra, beautiful, huge, intensely red tomatoes clinging to the vines.
Even after two stings to my hands yesterday, I'm excited to continue this ancient art. I've already found a local bee source for next year's bees. All three of us queen bees want a local hive that has weathered our climate and the typical threats to bees.
At the beginning of the season, we were all haunted by the possibility that our bees may not survive the winter. This is a normal and real possibility. Even the best of beekeepers lose bees over the winter-yet it was just unthinkable. We'll do our best, but there are so many uncontrollable variables.
One of the most perplexing concerns is will they have enough honey stores to last?
My hive doesn't. I visited the hive two days ago and found my bees in the midst of being robbed again! I halved the entrance and the misfit band of robbers headed home. How much honey did they manage to take with them? While checking for honey loss, trying to neatly push all the bars back together so no one got squished, I angered two bees to kamikaze suicide. I watched as the angriest bee curled into my glove and gave up her life for revenge! She was successful and I have the sore hand to prove it.
There is humor in this lack of winter honey stores. It turns out I will have to feed my bees through the winter with expensive organic honey. Tony thinks this is hysterical--isn't it supposed to be the other way around?
How much honey to leave them? This is perplexing too. No one knows for sure--how can one predict the hive appetite and whether they will even accept the honey? How best to feed them, how to keep the bowl of honey from freezing...?? How, how, how?
Closing the hive: The real danger to a hive is precipitation. If we put on too heavy of a winter coat and there's a sequence of higher winter temperatures, the hive might sweat and the bees might freeze. And then, what if there's a cold snap and they can't stay warm enough?
We are prepared and have adjusted to the idea that we might lose our bees over winter. Our worries originate from the mothers we are, the nurturers, and to lose life, even insects, is unthinkable. But it is part of the reality of keeping bees and one season down--we are beekeepers.
All of us have enjoyed the learning curve-steeper for some (moi), and this connection to nature. We've learned so much and that includes an important skill.
We've seen the neighborhood vegetation flourish: gardens, fruit trees and flowers. A neighbor called a few days ago to come take anything and everything that was left out of her garden. Apparently they'd had enough and the abundance had worn them down. Excited for a few straggling cucumbers, me the gleaner, was astounded to see a patch with possibly a hundred extra cucumbers they couldn't use. It was cucumber picking heaven. Because my tomatoes were still producing, I couldn't even use all her extra, beautiful, huge, intensely red tomatoes clinging to the vines.
One day pick from the mid October harvest
Even after two stings to my hands yesterday, I'm excited to continue this ancient art. I've already found a local bee source for next year's bees. All three of us queen bees want a local hive that has weathered our climate and the typical threats to bees.
At the beginning of the season, we were all haunted by the possibility that our bees may not survive the winter. This is a normal and real possibility. Even the best of beekeepers lose bees over the winter-yet it was just unthinkable. We'll do our best, but there are so many uncontrollable variables.
One of the most perplexing concerns is will they have enough honey stores to last?
My hive doesn't. I visited the hive two days ago and found my bees in the midst of being robbed again! I halved the entrance and the misfit band of robbers headed home. How much honey did they manage to take with them? While checking for honey loss, trying to neatly push all the bars back together so no one got squished, I angered two bees to kamikaze suicide. I watched as the angriest bee curled into my glove and gave up her life for revenge! She was successful and I have the sore hand to prove it.
There is humor in this lack of winter honey stores. It turns out I will have to feed my bees through the winter with expensive organic honey. Tony thinks this is hysterical--isn't it supposed to be the other way around?
How much honey to leave them? This is perplexing too. No one knows for sure--how can one predict the hive appetite and whether they will even accept the honey? How best to feed them, how to keep the bowl of honey from freezing...?? How, how, how?
Closing the hive: The real danger to a hive is precipitation. If we put on too heavy of a winter coat and there's a sequence of higher winter temperatures, the hive might sweat and the bees might freeze. And then, what if there's a cold snap and they can't stay warm enough?
We are prepared and have adjusted to the idea that we might lose our bees over winter. Our worries originate from the mothers we are, the nurturers, and to lose life, even insects, is unthinkable. But it is part of the reality of keeping bees and one season down--we are beekeepers.